


The Challenge

by snailboat64



Category: Human Target - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailboat64/pseuds/snailboat64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ilsa unintentionally issues Guerrero with a challenge that calls his skills into question. He decides to demonstrate some of his methods to her and teach her just how important her trust in him is. MATURE EYES ONLY!  Read author's note...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> This fic most definitely deserves it's 'M' rating and although the smut in it is no stronger than any of the other fics I've posted here the lead up to it is much more intense. If smut makes you nervous please don't read this, it will offend you. I've split the fic into three parts so if things in the first part upset you or make you uncomfortable, do us both a favour and leave the other two parts unread. There is a point to this story, it's not a case of PWP, but I fully expect some readers to find Guerrero's methods disturbing.

 

Rating: Mature eyes only!  
Warnings: Eventual smut.  
Genre: hetero  
Permission to archive to WWOMB: yes

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ilsa, wake up.”

The voice wouldn’t let her sleep.

“Wake up, Ilsa. You lost.”

She tried to reach for her pillow to pull it over her head and block out the annoying voice that seemed intent on dragging her back to wakefulness, but something was wrong. There was no pillow. When she tried to reach up and feel for it with her hand she found her wrists were tied together. Her eyes flew open as the shock of her unfamiliar situation jolted her awake and she found herself looking into familiar steely blue eyes.

“Hey,” Guerrero said, smiling down at her. “I gotcha.”

“Mr Guerrero! What on earth is going on?” A quick glance at her surroundings revealed that she was lying, bound hand and foot no less, in the trunk of Guerrero’s car.

“Give it a moment.” He laughed. He was clearly enjoying himself. “It will come back to you. I had to slip you a little something to keep you quiet. It tends to be a little disorientating when you first come round.”

Guerrero let her lie in the trunk for a while so she could put the pieces of her memory back together unaided. She tried to sit up but found she was wedged in in such a way that she couldn’t get out of the vehicle without Guerrero‘s help.

“Mr Guerrero, I demand that you get me out of this trunk this instant!”

“Not until you remember what this is all about.” He said firmly.

Ilsa craned her neck to try and see where they were. The car was parked up in some kind of warehouse, she could just make out the dusty panes of glass of a large window in the distance and the place smelled musty and disused. She could make out the shapes of what she thought were probably shelving units and in the dim light from the bare bulbs hovering in the darkness she could see Guerrero sitting on a faded old couch. He was eating, as per usual. It looked like a sandwich of some sort.

“I really have no idea! I must protest…”

“What’s the last thing you do remember.” Guerrero interrupted between bites of his sandwich.

Ilsa thought for a moment.

“We were at the office.” She said. Fragments of memory were floating back to her now.

“And?”

“We had just closed a case. It was something about a home invasion?”

Guerrero nodded, finishing his sandwich.

“The Mulvaney family! Of course! Chance found out where their son was being held after he was kidnapped during a home invasion! Mr Mulvaney was so grateful he brought over a whole case of twenty year old Irish whiskey!”

“See, I told you it would come back.”

“But I don’t see why…oh!” Suddenly she remember the conversation she’d had with the team back at the office.

They’d all sat for a while enjoying a taste of the fine Irish whiskey the client had given them. The topic of conversation had turned to home security and Ilsa had boasted that she had the finest security system in the world in her home and that she was grateful she would never have to face the terror of being dragged from her bed in the middle of the night by an armed madman. Guerrero and Ames had both laughed at her and insisted that there was no such thing as a perfect security system. Winston and Chance had tried to be a little more diplomatic and assured her that she was perfectly safe as long as Guerrero wasn’t the one trying to get into her home. She’d laughed it off, satisfied that her state of the art security system and small staff of guards would be more than a match for anyone with ideas about breaking in to her home.

But as she was leaving Guerrero had followed her into the elevator.

“You’re not safe you know.” He’d said to her. “No one ever really is. You just have to be ready for anything. You can’t put your faith in a security system.”

She’d laughed and said she’d bet him anything he liked that no one would be able to abduct her from her own home.

“Anything?” He’d asked her. His raised eyebrow and thoughtful look gave her a momentary concern but she was feeling a bit light-headed and overconfident, thanks to the whiskey, so she laughed again.

“Anything at all Mr Guerrero!” She repeated. “Anything at all!”

“Good to know.” He smiled.

Ilsa had thought no more about it as her driver picked her up and drove her home. She had retired to bed without another thought of her conversation with Guerrero. Until now.

“This isn’t about that silly little bet is it?” She tried to sound amused by the idea but in truth she was worried about that promise of giving Guerrero anything he liked.

“That ‘silly little bet’ was an insult, Ilsa.” He said walking to the car and standing over her. “I don’t think you really have much respect for me or the things I do.”

“Mr Guerrero! That’s not true at all!” Ilsa protested as her stomach seemed to do a back-flip. She realised too late that she’d unintentionally issued Guerrero with a challenge, the implications of which went far beyond whether or not he could beat her home security system. Guerrero smiled but this did nothing to soothe Ilsa’s growing feeling of apprehension.

“You can’t lie to me Ilsa. That’s not the way this works.”

He reached down and hauled her unceremoniously from the trunk. Ilsa couldn’t help but be impressed as well as frightened by the ease with which he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her away from the car. She’d seen Guerrero fight so she knew he was stronger than he looked but it was a different matter entirely to experience that strength first hand. Her silk nightgown offered her modesty little protection and Guerrero’s calloused hands gripped the bare flesh of her legs. She made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle free from his grip but she knew it wouldn’t really achieve much as her hands and feet were still tied. Making a run for freedom wasn’t really an option. Guerrero chuckled and tightened his grip.

He carried her twenty yards or so across the warehouse before dumping her back on her feet. He lifted her arms above her head and handcuffed her to a metal ring set into the wall of the building before cutting the cable ties that had bound her wrists together. He then repeated the process with her ankles, making sure to shackle her to the wall before cutting the cable ties so as to avoid the possibility of Ilsa kicking out at him.

“Mr Guerrero, I’m truly sorry that you feel I have somehow called in to question the effectiveness of your professional skills. That was not my intention at all!”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, okay, pride got the better of me. I didn’t believe you could get past my security system and you have very effectively proved me wrong. I submit, Mr Guerrero. You have shown me the error of my ways and I am truly sorry. I don’t think any further demonstration of your talents is necessary, do you?”

“You submit?” Guerrero asked grinning at her.

Ilsa blushed, cursing her poor choice of words. The implications of submitting to Guerrero whilst being chained to the wall, wearing nothing but a silk nightie and her panties, combined with the forfeit of giving him ‘anything at all’ were suddenly very clear to her.

“Need I remind you that I am your employer?” She tried to sound imperious and in control of the situation. It wasn’t working.

“A guy like me never has trouble finding work.” He chuckled. “I stick around because Chance wants me to.”

“And what would Chance think of you kidnapping me in the middle of the night and chaining me to a warehouse wall?”

Guerrero shrugged. “He’d understand. He hates it when people try and welsh on a bet.”

“And what about Mr Winston?” She demanded, aware that her voice was becoming shrill with panic. “Do you really think he would approve of what you’re doing here?”

Guerrero burst out laughing.

“Since when have I given even a second’s thought to what Winston thinks?”

“So what happens now?” Ilsa demanded, jutting her chin towards him defiantly. “You’re going to do what exactly? Torture me? Rape me?”

Guerrero suddenly became very still and serious.

“I’ve never forced a woman in to sex in my life and I’m not about to start now Mrs Pucci.”

Ilsa felt a moment of relief before she realised that she had made an accusation that had hurt more than Guerrero’s professional pride.

“So what does that leave, Mr Guerrero? Torture?”

“Let’s stick to calling it a demonstration.” Ilsa shivered at the cold look in Guerrero’s eyes. “I will hurt you but I won’t do anything to you that will cause any lasting damage. That’s not a courtesy I’ve offered anyone before Ilsa.”

She swallowed nervously.

“This really isn’t necessary…” Her voice trailed away as he pulled a black scarf from his pocket and stepped towards her. He blindfolded Ilsa with a practiced ease that chilled her. She heard the click as Guerrero popped open a switchblade and she felt her entire body break out in goose bumps. She felt him draw nearer and tried to focus on his assurance that he would do nothing to her that would cause lasting damage. Unfortunately her imagination was running wild with painful and humiliating scenarios that would still fall short of Guerrero breaking his word.

Ilsa felt a tug at one of the straps of her nightgown then the other, and felt the silk negligee drop silently from her body leaving her naked but for her panties. She gasped as the cool air hit her naked body.

“Mr Guerrero! You said…”

“I’m not going to force you Ilsa.” She could practically hear the grin on his face and blushed as she pictured him leering over the sight of her all but nude. “Until you beg me to rip them off, your pretty lace panties are staying exactly where they are.”

“Thank you.” Ilsa winced as the words slipped out of their own accord. She heard Guerrero chuckle.

Then there was silence. She listened for some clue as to what was going to happen next but she heard nothing but the very distant sound of traffic on what sounded like the freeway. She couldn’t so much as hear the sound of Guerrero breathing. The minutes ticked by in what seemed like hours and Ilsa had never felt so alone and yet so utterly exposed in all her life.

\-----------

  
She shivered. She told herself that it was due to the cool night air in the warehouse but really, deep down she knew it wasn’t that cold. She was afraid.

She tried to rub the side of her head against her arms in an attempt to dislodge the blindfold. She felt certain that if she could just see where she was and what Guerrero was up to she would be able to endure whatever he planned to do and maybe even feel some measure of control over the situation. Unfortunately the blindfold wouldn’t budge. Guerrero had of course anticipated that she would try and dislodge it and had tied it too tightly for her to move it even a fraction of an inch.

Ilsa let out an involuntary cry of frustration and was shocked to hear how loud it sounded in the silence of the warehouse. She listened intently for a minute or two, hoping to hear some kind of response from Guerrero, but she heard nothing, not even a smug grunt of amusement at her predicament.

The panic was really starting to rise in her now and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out again. She tried to focus on something she could control, her breathing. For a minute or two it seemed to work as she tried to concentrate on some breathing exercises she dimly remembered from an old yoga class. It didn’t help her relax much but it did seem to keep the panic and despair at bay.

Her fragile inner calm was obliterated instantly when she heard something large and metallic fall to the concrete floor of the warehouse. Her body tensed as she held her breath, straining to hear some kind of clue as to what had caused the noise. There was nothing, not even the sound of her own breathing now.

She let out the breath that she’d been holding in a slow sigh and tried to resume her yoga breathing technique but found that the strain of holding her breath had made her breathing too irregular. Suddenly she found she had lost control of the one thing that had provided her with some measure of comfort. She couldn’t seem to find any natural rhythm with which to breathe. She tried to slow her breathing but found that made her feel suffocated. She sped it up and then found she was in danger of hyperventilating.

The panic rose on a tide of despair that threatened to drown her completely when suddenly her ears picked up the sound of slow deliberate footsteps approaching. She actually felt gratitude when Guerrero spoke.

“That was lesson one of the demonstration, Ilsa. Anticipation.” She thought she detected a note of amusement in his voice but decided she would not rise to the bait. “How long do you think I left you hanging there alone in the dark?”

Ilsa considered her answer carefully before she replied. She knew that her perception of the passage of time would be distorted by her emotions so although to her it felt like she had been hanging there alone for hours in reality it would be significantly less.

“Forty-five minutes. An hour maybe?” Ilsa hoped to impress him with the accuracy of her wild guess but her words were met with a chuckle.

“Not even close.” Guerrero said. “It was exactly seven minutes. Not a second more.”

“Well then congratulations are in order Mr Guerrero.” She tried to sound impressed but authoritative. “This has been a most effective display of your interrogation technique.”

“As I said, Ilsa, that was only lesson one. You still have a lot to learn.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t really expected Guerrero to free her so quickly when she was still so defenceless but a small ray of hope had persisted until his words snuffed it out. She felt an anguished sob caught in her throat and was on the verge of letting it out and begging for Guerrero’s forgiveness when she heard the sound of a cell phone ringing.

She smiled with relief. Someone had noticed her disappearance and would surely be looking for her. The thought didn’t offer her comfort for long though. Guerrero clamped his hand over her still smiling mouth before answering the call.

“This is Guerrero.”

There was the muffled sound of someone speaking on the other end of the line but it wasn’t loud enough or clear enough for Ilsa to be able to make out what was being said and by whom.

“Yeah, that was me. I’ve got her safe and sound, don’t sweat it dude.”

She heard him end the call whilst the other person was till talking.

“Winston is such an old woman. He knows you’re safe now though.”

Guerrero removed his hand from her mouth.

“He will be looking for me! They all will!”

“Let’em look. Not even Chance knows about this place.”

Ilsa fought back tears of frustration, grateful that at least the blindfold concealed her eyes.

“I made you a promise Ilsa. I said I would hurt you but not damage you. Your next lesson will be to learn the difference between the two.”

Without even waiting for Ilsa to acknowledge what he had just said, Guerrero took one of Ilsa’s nipples between his finger and thumb and pinched it hard. She cried out in surprise and pain but he didn’t release it. Her nipple grew somewhat accustomed to the painful sensation and her other nipple hardened in sympathy and she was shocked to feel a tantalising flutter deep in her abdomen. Suddenly Guerrero increased the pressure and she cried out again but the strong, calloused fingers kept pinching harder and harder.

“Please stop!” Ilsa gasped. “It hurts! It’s too much! Guerrero, please stop!”

At the sound of his name he released her and laughed.

“I hope our lives never depend on you being able to keep your mouth shut whilst you’re being tortured Ilsa. But at least you’ve learned the first part of this lesson.”

She heard Guerrero walk away in the direction of the car and heard what she thought was the sound of him opening a toolbox. She began to sob quietly as every sordid little rumour she’d ever heard about Guerrero flashed through her mind. Mostly what she’d heard lacked in the specifics of how he’d injured or killed his victims but her suddenly vivid imagination easily filled in the details for her.

She didn’t hear him approach this time. She was made aware of his proximity by his subtle scent, a mixture of guns, cars and just a hint of cologne mixed in with the feint lingering smell on his breath of whatever meat had been in his sandwich.

She gasped as she felt the chill of something metallic gently pinch the nipple that was still hard and sore from Guerrero’s fingers.

“These are an old favourite Ilsa.” He explained calmly. “Needle-nose pliers. You said I hurt you when I when I pinched you with my fingers. What do you suppose would happen if I applied the same amount of pressure to these pliers?”

“Please Guerrero no! Let me go!”

“I made a promise Ilsa and I’ll stand by it but you need to answer the question.”

“It would.. It would..” Ilsa couldn’t seem to finish the sentence. Guerrero sighed and took pity on the nearly hysterical woman.

“It would damage you.”

Ilsa cried with relief as the pliers released her aching nipple and she heard Guerrero drop them back in to his toolbox. Then he was back and she flinched as he gently removed the blindfold. Even the dim light of the warehouse seemed painfully bright to her as she blinked, trying to get regain normal vision. The first thing she saw was Guerrero himself, standing only a foot away, watching her intently.

Ilsa regained some of her composure now that she could see Guerrero, as she knew she would, although that composure was somewhat damaged by the fact she was still chained to the warehouse wall almost completely naked.

“I… I understand the difference now Mr Guerrero, I really do.”

Guerrero smirked as his boss. The return to her usual form of address for him as “Mr Guerrero” amused him.

“Well then, lesson two is complete. Although your obvious lack of trust in me is a bit disappointing.”

“Mr Guerrero! You kidnapped me from my bed in the middle of the night and chained me naked to a wall in some god-forsaken warehouse! How on earth do you expect me to trust you?”

Guerrero sighed. “Yeah, you’re still not quite getting it are you?”

Ilsa mouth gaped for a moment, speechless at the man’s sheer audacity.

“You either trust me or you don’t.” He said. “I told you your security system wouldn’t keep you safe and you laughed in my face. So I proved it to you. Do I get a word of thanks? No. I told you I wouldn’t damage you in any way and yet you still stood there snivelling and begging for mercy. My word seems to mean nothing to you Ilsa.”

“I’m sorry Mr Guerrero, but I don’t know what to say.”

“Well I’d better move on to the next lesson then.”

Ilsa let out a disappointed groan She’d hoped the removal of the blindfold had marked the end of Guerrero’s demonstration but there was clearly more he intended to teach her.

“The next lesson is context.” He said as he dragged a small table towards her. His body blocked her view of what was on the table but she found his next words disturbing. “Although there are elements of your first two lessons here too.”

Guerrero turned and stepped to the side giving Ilsa an unobstructed view of the table. She felt the colour drain from her face as she saw the car battery connected to some kind of dial and a tangle of wires.

“Take this battery for instance. In the context of a car or even a garage it’s no real cause for concern. But from the look on your face right now I can see that in the context of you and me, here, now, it scares you.”

“Of course it scares me, Mr Guerrero. I’ve heard talk about the sorts of things you have done to people with one of those!”

“Which provides a neat little recap of lesson one: anticipation.”

“Yes, and lesson two which involved you hurting me, Mr Guerrero! I haven’t forgotten that either!”

“But what was the point of lesson two Ilsa?” He smiled, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

“To learn the difference between ‘hurt’ and ‘damage’.” She hissed at him, angry at herself for being dragged into his sick little teacher-student role-play.

“Correct. See? When you apply yourself you can learn.” He said with a smug little smile.

“Okay, I understand.” Ilsa said impatiently. “Even harmless objects can inspire fear in the right context.”

“That’s true.” Guerrero conceded. “But unfortunately not the point of this particular lesson.”

Ilsa tried to remain calm as he picked up one of the wires and adjusted the attached dial. She knew that although Guerrero was intent on scaring her, and hurting her too, he had given her his word that she would not come to any serious and lasting harm. It finally dawned on her that what Guerrero was trying to teach her wasn’t really about the disturbing methods he employed to coerce people into talking, it was about trust and respect. She’d shown him precious little of either.

“I think I understand you now Mr Guerrero. I haven’t exactly been very fair in my dealings with you.”

Guerrero paused for a moment.

“That’s true.” He said eventually. “And although it’s very gracious of you to say so, it’s a bit late.”

“I trust you Mr Guerrero!” She blurted out and was surprised when she realised she meant it. She couldn’t trust him not to hurt or torment her, not when he already had, but she trusted him with her safety and even her life.

Guerrero smiled.

“Well, we got there in the end.” He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment making Ilsa blush as his gaze took in every detail of her naked body. “I think we’ll make this the final lesson now.”

“I think I’ve learned enough for one night.” She said, trying not to let it sound like she was pleading with him.

“But Ilsa, this is the fun part. This is when I show you what pain in different contexts can do!”

“Please Mr Guerrero, I really don’t want to know!”

He ignored her pleas and advanced towards her with the wire.

\------------------------

“First I need to get a baseline on your pain threshold.” He touched the exposed end of the wire to the side of her leg just above the knee. The shock wasn’t as bad as she expected although it did make her jump. It was no worse than a shock of static electricity.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” He asked.

“No, I suppose not.” She conceded.

“Good.” Guerrero laughed. “If you’re going to be honest, this will be a lot more enjoyable for both of us.”

Ilsa cringed as she realised that if she’d been a bit smarter about things she could have pretended it was a lot more painful than it really was. She had unwittingly guaranteed that Guerrero would increase the intensity of the next shock. Sure enough he adjusted the dial and touched the wire to her leg for a second time.

“Ow!” Her leg twitched of its own accord when the shock stung her leg.

“I think we can do better than ‘ow’ Ilsa.” He fiddled with the dial again and touched the wire to her leg for the third time. This time she let out a wordless cry of pain as her leg didn’t so much as twitch as convulse.

“How did that feel?” He asked calmly.

“How do you think it felt? It bloody hurt!”

Guerrero laughed and turned the dial back a bit.

“This should serve, for the purpose of our demonstration anyway.”

This time he applied the wire to her other leg and although it made her twitch and yelp at the sting, it was not the intensely painful kick of the previous shock.

“Context.” He said. “The same pain in different contexts does different things to people.”

“Pain is pain, Mr Guerrero. I understand that some people seem to enjoy it but let me assure you, I am not one of those people!”

Guerrero leaned in close and spoke softly: “Are you sure of that Ilsa? How can you be certain?”

She was just forming a reply when the wire grazed against her hip sending a shooting sensation through her pelvis and making her gasp. It hurt, but if she was honest with herself she had to acknowledge that it was a good sort of hurt, kind of hurt that made her body buzz and her underwear damp.

Guerrero smiled as her face flushed.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Um…” Ilsa bit her lip nervously. She could lie but something about Guerrero’s expression told her that he already knew that she had found an unexpected pleasure in his lesson. “Not so bad?” she ventured.

“Not so bad.” He repeated, smiling and shaking his head. “Shall we try that again?”

He touched the wire to her other hip and this time Ilsa moaned softly as the shock lit up her senses and she became very aware of the damp heat that was growing more urgent between her legs.

“Well?”

“It felt… good.” Ilsa reluctantly admitted.

Guerrero grinned at her embarrassing admission.

“It’s a cliché that there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, Ilsa, but it is true. I have just given you a little taste of that. But you need to remember that it is such a very fine line. With this same battery I could stop your heart.”

“But you won’t.” She replied a little breathlessly. “I trust that you won’t.”

“No,” he sighed, “I won’t. But I can see you understand the possibilities.”

Ilsa nodded as she stared at the wire in his hand. Guerrero followed her gaze and smiled. He touched the wire against her hip and she moaned.

“The lesson is over now Ilsa. I will stop if you ask me too.”

“Don’t!” She pleaded as he started to step back. “I… I don’t want you to stop.”

Ilsa could hardly believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth. Guerrero had said the lesson was over which would surely mean the whole ordeal was over and she could go home, but he had woken something inside her, something that didn’t want him to stop. Her entire body was aching to be touched.

“Ilsa, if I continue… you know it won’t be a few little shocks don’t you? I meant it when I said I wouldn‘t harm you and it would be dangerously easy to get carried away with this game.” He indicated the car battery.

“I trust you Mr Guerrero. You said you wouldn’t do any damage to me and I believe you.”

He carefully laid down the wire and stood so close to her that their noses were almost touching.

“I need a little more than just your trust Ilsa.” He said softly.

She leaned forward a little and closed the gap between their lips, giving him a slightly hesitant kiss, which he returned surprisingly gently.

“I want this Guerrero.” She whispered when he pulled away. Her eyes were squeezed shut so she wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of seeing the look of triumph on his face. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt Guerrero’s body pressed against her own, the hardness at her hip telling her that he too was aroused. She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment when she realised he was un-cuffing her hands. She opened her eyes and saw Guerrero, far from gloating over his victory, was merely looking thoughtful as he rubbed her cold numb hands between his own.

“If I left you cuffed like that much longer the blood supply to your hands could have been compromised.” He explained.

Ilsa nodded and winced as the sudden onset of pins and needles announced the return of both blood supply and feeling to her hands. She wondered if the moment between had passed or if Guerrero had simply been toying with her.

He dropped down to a crouch and released her ankles from the shackles and Isla wondered if, with his face roughly level with her crotch, he could smell her desire.

Guerrero stood up suddenly and pushed her roughly back against the wall, knocking the breath out of her as he pinned her shoulders to the wall with his hands. Neither of them spoke as they stared at each other. Ilsa tried to lean forward to initiate another kiss but Guerrero hands held her firmly against the wall.

“I told you Ilsa, those panties are staying on until you beg me to take them off.”

“Then take them off.” She said, through clenched teeth.

“That doesn’t sound much like begging.” He muttered in her ear before gently nipping at her earlobe.

Stubbornness almost got the better of her but when she thought about all the indignities she’d already suffered at the hands on Guerrero that night what did one more matter? He was disinclined to give her much breathing space to think it over though as his mouth left her earlobe and began kissing her throat and his hands slid down from her shoulders to cup her breasts. She moaned as his thumbs teased her nipples to hard peaks.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that it was anyone but Guerrero that was kissing his way down to her breasts and taking her swollen nipple into his mouth. She moaned again as his tongue flickered across it but was dragged back to the reality that it was Guerrero coaxing the sounds of pleasure from her when his teeth nipped at her. She felt one of his hands sneak down across her belly and slip between her legs. Her breathing came hard and fast as she felt his fingers rub against the lacy of her panties.

“Please Guerrero…” She suddenly found she didn’t care anymore if she had to beg for what she wanted. “Please rip my panties off. I’m begging you…”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Guerrero literally ripped the lacy undergarment from her body and tossed it aside. His mouth crashed against her in a fierce kiss that left her stunned and breathless as his tongue invaded her mouth. She put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with more passion than she ever thought herself capable of, and with Guerrero of all people!

His hand moved against her again and it felt all the more intense without the barrier of lacy underwear. She moaned into his mouth as the intensity built up bringing her closer to orgasm. With out warning Guerrero suddenly slipped his fingers inside her whilst his thumb continued to grind against her. She broke away from the kiss as she struggled for breath and Guerrero resumed kissing and biting at her neck.

The sensation of his fingers sliding in an out of her was almost too much for her to bare but when he flexed them inside her, finding her g-spot, she let out a cry that was almost a scream as she came, soaking his hand with her juices.

Guerrero abruptly withdrew his hand and grabbed Ilsa’s wrists. She limply allowed herself to be dragged over to the sofa but was surprised when he stopped her from flopping down on to its grubby but inviting cushions. She was about to ask him why he’d dragged her over to the sofa if they weren’t go to use it when he spun her round so her back was to him and he bent her over the back of the sofa. Realisation dawned on Ilsa as she heard Guerrero unbuckle his belt and undo his flies.

His hand reached between her thighs and she felt him pump his fingers into her again. She felt totally humiliated lying bent over a filthy sofa in a decrepit warehouse as her most notorious employee coaxed her towards another orgasm but she could bring herself to make it stop. She trusted Guerrero completely now and he’d said he wouldn’t force her. She knew it was her decision to take all of this further than Guerrero’s demonstration and it was her decision to beg Guerrero to do this. She ached for him now.

Guerrero withdrew his hand again, apparently satisfied that she was suitably lubricated. She felt him rub the head of his cock against her bruised and aching clitoris. He was teasing her.

“Fuck me Guerrero!” She begged. “Just fuck me! Now!”

He slammed his cock in to her hard making her cry out his name. He pulled back slowly, making them both moan, before driving in to her again. He repeated this over and over as Ilsa cried out his name and he dug his fingers into her hips. As he felt her climax build he started to speed up and drag her back to meet every thrust. Ilsa’s climax seemed to take both of them by surprise and she actually screamed as her body clenched around Guerrero. He didn’t last much longer and he pulled Ilsa towards him arching her body back against his own and biting down into her shoulder to muffle the deep groan as he emptied himself inside her.

They stood there for a moment, Ilsa swaying slightly but still gripped firmly in Guerrero’s arms as their breathing eventually slowed to a more normal rhythm. Eventually, he released her and pulled away. By the time Ilsa turned around he had already done up his flies and his belt. Seeing him standing there fully clothed reminded her of her own nudity. She self consciously folded her arms in front of her in an attempt to cover her breasts that she knew was ludicrous given the events of the evening. Guerrero laughed.

“What happens now?” She asked as Guerrero walked over to his car and retrieved a small holdall from the back seat.

“Now I take you home.” He said as he tossed her the bag.

She opened it and was relieved to find it contained clothing although it was not her own. Guerrero had provided her with a pair of old sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, probably his own. She decided that it was probably not a good idea to point out to Guerrero that the garments he had provided for her were a poor substitute for the expensive silk negligee he had ruined. She slipped them on without comment.

Ilsa was a little surprised to look up to see Guerrero holding the passenger door to his car open for her like a chauffeur.

“I’m not riding in the trunk this time then?” She asked, smiling at the familiar gesture of a man holding open a door for her after the extreme oddness of the night’s events.

“I’ve made my point Mrs Pucci.” He replied politely, surprising her by his unusually form of address. “But the trunk is always an option. I just thought you might be more comfortable sitting up front with me.”

She watched him carefully until she detected a slight switch to the corner of his mouth. He was teasing her. She gave him a dazzling smile and got into the passenger seat. She looked up at him as he was about to shut the door for her.

“I trust your judgement implicitly Mr Guerrero.”

He smiled and closed the car door. She only just caught what he muttered as he walked around to the driver’s side.

“About fucking time.”

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